


love to hate me

by softouches



Series: Scene Stealers [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Bang Chan is a Good Friend, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Unresolved Tension, and flirty bickering, changbin is also flirty but has his moments, flirty jisung, idk what to add, underground rappers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softouches/pseuds/softouches
Summary: Changbin never really liked the word hate. And, generally, couldn’t tell that he feels connection to it.Despite his kind of fierce and bold demanour, that usually catches your eyes first when you encounter him, Changbin was a rather gentle and loving human being, always trying to give people chances and justify not that pleasant behavior they may expose, minimizing his possible interactions with said person afterwards. Because we all people, right? And you never know what is happening behind the closed doors.Yet, exceptions always confirm the rule, as when it comes to Han Jisung, the word ‘hate’ seem to be running through his veins instead of blood.or: underground rappers seo changbin and han jisung think they hate each other, but maybe it is something more than that.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Series: Scene Stealers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007685
Comments: 7
Kudos: 160





	love to hate me

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i'm not productive, it's just minchan fic was in drafts for way too long and then changbin on show me the money happened and welp, here it is.
> 
> [love to hate me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlzGXcTzdzU&ab_channel=BLACKPINK-Topic)

“You sound like a dying squirrel.”

Changbin grasps on a bottle of water in his hands, trying to keep his eyes on the screen and not to react to the jab. His performance has finished just minutes ago, so his head still feels kind of dizzy, and he seems to be slightly out of breath, with doses of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

 _Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him._ “Not that coming from you,” he blurts out, completely inertially, as his own body is way too used to those daily bickers. It’s like usually, Changbin has everything under control, but when Jisung stumbles in his self-control is vanishing in seconds.

Changbin _hates_ it.

“What that’s supposed to mean?” Jisung pushes further, his cheeks start puffing and look flushed, and his voice seem to get three octaves louder trying not to get muffled by the background music.

Changbin never really liked the word hate. And, generally, couldn’t tell that he feels connection to it.

Despite his kind of fierce and bold demanour, that usually catches your eyes first when you encounter him, Changbin was a rather gentle and loving human being, always trying to give people chances and justify not that pleasant behavior they may expose, minimizing his possible interactions with said person afterwards. Because we all people, right? And you never know what is happening behind the closed doors.

Yet, exceptions always confirm the rule, as when it comes to Han Jisung, the word ‘hate’ seem to be running through his veins instead of blood.

In theory, Han Jisung was a nice guy. Sometimes overly loud at their shared lectures, sometimes just a tint bit fierce and overwhelming, but he seemed like a really sweet and nice boy who just was very passionate about everything he does.

From afar.

In person, Changbin was sure the boy is secretly a spawn of the devil.

 _“What that’s supposed to mean?”_ Changbin mocks, still trying to keep his eyes on phone screen. Usually after performances he feels at peace, rather satisfied with himself as he finally has a chance to let out the tension, but now his heart seems to be gaining momentum even more. “Your jabs get less and less original, Han Jisung.”

“Like your rap?”

“You little—”

Then suddenly someone’s hand grasps on his shoulder from behind. “Okay, that’s enough,” the voice is firm, but Changbin hears glimpses of laughter in it.

Chan’s figure comes into view, and he stands in between them, almost like some type of mediator, and Changbin wants to laugh at stupidity of that. Two grown-ass men need a fucking mediator to stop bantering like kids.

Ah, yeah, Jisung is spawn of the devil, after all.

“You both are ridiculous,” Chan says, taking a sit near Changbin.

“He is the one who reacts.” Jisung rolls his eyes, as if it’s the main cause of their every banter. Though his gaze goes down to the ground, almost as if he’s flustered, either because of the bickers, either because of Chan’s close presence.

“Then, maybe, stop getting on my nerves?” Changbin replies, arching his eyebrow at the boy.

“Then, maybe, leave?”

“Guys--,” Chan tries to chime in, but at one moment Changbin feels like he snaps, almost growling out next words. “Why would I leave if the one who’s lacking is you?”

The smirk falls from Jisung’s face, and his cheeks get flushed again as he gasps for an air, preparing for the next jab.

This time Chan is faster, though. “Jisung,” he says calmly, but there is something rather terrifying about the way his voice sounds. “You’re performing in ten, right? And we don’t want you to be distracted?” Chan blinks, almost innocently, smile wide, but obviously forced.

Jisung’s gaze falls on him for a second, and Changbin can see how his jaw is clenching, as his look turns from teasing one to stern. “Fine,” he grits through his teeth, hopping off the bar stool. “Bye, Chan.” Jisung gives the boy a quick smile, but when his eyes skim through Changbin’s face he rolls his eyes blatantly, as if emphasizing his feelings once more.

Changbin sighs tiredly at that, rubbing his temples. When he first crossed the threshold of ‘Scene Stealers’, he didn’t want to start any drama, and didn’t think that someone could hate him to the point where every visit there turns into hours and hours of pointless bickers. Pointless is the key word here, and Changbin knows he should leave it, ignore it, because the more he reacts, the more excited Jisung gets. But Changbin is way too proud when it comes to his skills to stay collected.

And Han Jisung seem to know that perfectly well.

He turns his head to the side and sees how Chan is staring at him with that disgustingly knowing look and a small smile. “Why are you giving me that look?” Changbin snaps and immediately flinches from the harshness of his tone. “It’s him who always does this,” he mumbles, quieter this time, hoping Chan hears the undertones of ‘sorry’ in his voice.

“I didn’t say anything,” Chan replies, smiling even wider while looking to the ground.

_This stupidly smart bastard._

“Your face did,” Changbin grumbles, and this time Chan doesn’t resist a laugh. It’s kind of contagious, so Changbin can’t help but follow along, tension finally letting him off. “But really, I didn’t even finish the stage properly, and he was already at my throat.”

“Changbin,” Chan stretches the words in familiar scolding voice. “You’re older.”

“That’s why I should allow him to drug me through the mud?” Changbin deadpans, scowling lightly. Being a knight in shining armors was Chan’s prerogative, not his.

Chan hums, tracing his gaze through the dim lights of the club. “You should be at least wiser.”

“Who said I am not?”

“Gosh,” Chan groans. “You both should either take up boxing, either kiss,” he huffs, with a plain expression.

“I’m sorry?” Changbin feels his heart dropping to the stomach, and gulps.

A teasing smile graces Chan’s lips again. “As if you didn’t notice,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly.

“Noticed what?”

For a moment, as Chan looks up, there is something unfamiliar in his eyes, and Changbin is usually good at reading people. Sadness, teasing, anger, care – that is what he is used to see in Chan’s gaze. But now the look is undecipherable, a mixture between shock, mocking, and guilt.

A rather odd mixture to Changbin’s mind.

“I guess, you should find that out by yourself, then,” Chan leans in to whisper and leaves, patting Changbin on the back.

And Changbin thinks he needs to look up the definition of the word hate again.

*

Sometimes Chan likes to joke that Changbin practically lives in ‘Scene Stealers’.

And to some extent, Changbin thinks it’s true.

For some reason, the mere setting and ambience of the place gives him a needed boost of inspiration, a motivation, even, as dozen of thoughts and ideas are filling his mind. Most of the time he gets so engulfed in them, that he forgets about being in public, starting to spit out words audibly.

Not like someone in here even cares, though.

Happy and amused expressions on people’s faces is what pumps Changbin up. He doesn’t need caffeine, drugs, or alcohol, because the people’s faces while he is performing are the most addictive thing, and it keeps him going further, pushing through his own limits.

Changbin doesn’t strive to be famous. Well, he had, at some point of his life, when he was younger and more naïve, trying out for different entertainment companies, auditioning through whole year around. But then, something clicked in him. Changbin realized that he is a person who is cherishing freedom the most, going along all the boundaries and limits. He starts writing music really early, so Changbin decides for himself that, well, if he gets famous, then only for things he does himself.

Seo Changbin just strives to be heard and understood.

“The rhymes sound off.”

Changbin doesn’t need to look up to identify the voice, almost scowling low ‘jisung’ under his breath.

He exhales loudly, looking up at the boy hovering over him. “Really?” Changbin holds dramatically on his heart in faux surprise. “It’s a draft, of course it sounds off for now,” he mumbles, getting back to the notes on his phone.

Jisung smirks, plopping his body on the chair nearby. “I could help,” he shrugs, trying to get a look of Changbin’s notes. His voice is rather calm this time, being at the same level of playfulness yet seeming almost… _shy_.

“Yeah, you could,” Changbin replies calmly, and tries to smile. Jisung’s mouth opens in wide ‘o’, definitely not expecting such outcome. “Fuck off, maybe? That would be helpful.” The expression on Changbin’s face shifts in seconds, making his gaze stern and piercing again.

Jisung lets out a snort and shakes his head from side to side. “A single time I tried to be nice,” he mumbles, leaning in on his elbows.

Changbin swears he can feel slight tingles of his breath somewhere near his skin and feels as his guts twist. “Nice?” He asks, almost accusingly. “Chan is nice. Hyunjin is nice. Seungmin is nice. And you,” he points at the boy with his index finger, “are not nice at all.”

There is something in the air that makes it seem like it’s electrocuted, almost like the time is slowed down, and the world stopped right there, at that point.

 _Tension_ , Chahgbin identifies. _It’s tension._

And that devil’s spawn looks at him with the haughtiest look he has ever seen, grinning as his expression is full of conceit.

Changbin gulps, thanking all the music gods that he learned how to keep his face stoic even while feeling like a mess. “Tons of people here, I will never understand why you stick to me, like a glue,” he says slowly, voice full of seriousness this time.

Seriousness and pure interest.

While Jisung’s shit-eating grin gets even bigger. “It’s fun.”

“What?” Changbin loses his temper for a moment, eyes bugging out in disbelief. His heart starts racing stupidly fast and he feels his palms sweating somewhere under the table.

“Teasing you is fun, Changbin,” Jisung clicks with his tongue and the sound echoes in the boy’s ears for a second. “You try so hard to act like you’re so indifferent, and cool, and intimidating, yet can’t help but react with such force at the utter sound of my voice.”

Just like with Chan, Changbin thinks he’s good at reading Jisung. He always identifies the annoyance, anger, teasing, or mocking in his voice, eyes, expressions, and Changbin is rather used to them. But this time, the sultriness and heaviness of Jisung’s tone seems rather scaring, not because it’s something unknown for Changbin, evoking the mere confusion.

Changbin is scared of the way his body reacts to this – all tingling and shifting, like someone is mixing his insides with a spoon, almost creating a swirl. “Just admit that you want my attention,” Changbin manages to collect himself, forcing out the words under his breath.

“Wasn’t it obvious before?” Jisung leans even closer, licking down on his chapped lips.

Changbin thinks he dies and gets resurrected all at once. “You’re be performing today again, right?” He clears his throat, making an attempt to shift the atmosphere around. It seems to work, as Jisung’s gaze gets back to a teasing one as he squints.

“And what if I do?” He asks cheekily. “Will you watch me?”

_Okay, that’s definitely flirting now._

“I practically live here, I watch everyone,” Changbin mutters.

“Then you better take notes, _hyung,_ ” he smirks. Changbin prepares for another banter but sees as Jisung’s eyes lands on something behind Changbin’s back and he grins. “Hyunjin!” He yells, hopping off in his direction.

_Inhale, exhale, Changbin. Inhale, exhale._

With that he gets back to work, bobbing his head to the performances on the background. Most of them are bland, but Hyunjin manages to catch his attention, rapping rather aggressively, yet stretching out the words to add the needed heaviness. Somewhere closer to the evening, he spots Chan – looking disgustingly chic in his hoodie and jeans for some reason, as if he got back from some kind of trendy photoshoot. He smiles at him, looking over the lyrics Changbin wrote, and for a moment the latter feels at peace.

“Oh, Jisung is performing,” Chan mumbles, pointing with his head at the boy.

Changbin slowly looks up at the stage framed by cheap lighting. It’s yellowish, almost dull, but there is something captivating about it, something in the way it illuminates not only the whole stage, but people performing there as well. Now it plays on Jisung’s skin in an interesting way, as he is half-covered in the dark, but some of his features are highlighted. He is looking to the ground, with a cocky, almost devilish smirk on his lips as he fixes the beanie on his head.

Jisung not only _knows_ he is good. Jisung _believes_ it.

That something that Changbin lacks. _Believing._

The crowd starts cheering loudly, even before Jisung starts spitting first words, almost as if they are echanted by the mere glimpse of his look.

“It’s so interesting,” he hears Chan saying as the beat starts playing on the background.

“What is?” Changbin asks, feeling as he holding a breath from the way Jisung acts on the stage. He is present at his every performance, but every time it’s different, as the boy offers you something amusingly new.

“You’re so similar, but so different at the same time.” Chan’s words almost get muffled by Jisung’s loud voice. His tone is rather bewitching – you end up wanting more and more of it.

“Elaborate maybe?” Changbin mumbles, not even looking in Chan’s direction. The yells and cheers of the crowd gets heavier, overlapping with Jisung’s voice, something that usually bothers, but in his case it seems to make up a perfect puzzle.

“You’re both are very passionate and determined, and always give everything you have on the stage, to the last drop.” Changbin barely makes out what Chan is saying, his eyes glued to Jisung’s gestures and expressions. “Yet, you are more fierce, almost scary when you take the mic into your hands, it feels like you simply don’t care whether people watch you, or not,” Chan talks slowly, steadily, and the contrast with Jisung’s fast rapping on the background is rather counterintuitive. “While Jisung _wants_ to be watched, observed, admired, even,” he huffs, and Changbin hears an endearing laughter in his voice. “You attract everyone’s attention effortlessly, Changbin. You don’t even try. Jisung just _makes_ people pay attention to him, and you give in eventually, even if you don’t want to.”

Changbin thinks he’s holding a breath for too long from the way his lungs hurt. He can’t understand if it’s from the way Jisung moves along the stage and slides through the lyrics, or from the things Chan just said to him, as they hit him hard, for some reason.

Jisung is a player. At least when he’s on stage. He flirts, teases, plays with the flow and the sounds around him. He gets you hooked, intrigued, and you just can’t help but watch his every move, word, expression. And it’s fascinating.

“You do know that it doesn’t hurt my pride to acknowledge that he is good?” Changbin finally breaks the silence, mouth still slightly dry. “I’m not a coward,” he jerks his head up, voice full of confidence.

“People have different ways of expressing their admiration, Changbin,” Chan says with his usual ‘oh-i-know-better’ tone. “Sometimes those way are dumb, and childish, but they are no less admiring.”

“You’re trying to imply some message here for the second day in a row,” Changbin notes, as everything clicks into one suspicious picture. “Can you just fucking say it straightforwardly without beating around the bush?”

“And I thought I’m dense.”

Suddenly, Jisung’s voice disappears, leaving out the sound of claps and yelps, and Changbin thinks he’s done, but music still playing on the background makes him a bit uneasy. He looks up at the stage and for a glimpse of a second catches Jisung’s eyes. The cheers and claps stop, along with the world, it seems, and the beat that plays seems way too odd for a moment like that.

Jisung looks almost scared, eyes open wide in shock, and Changbin almost sees how heavy his breathing is, it’s almost audible. His hands are trembling as he looks to the ground in confusion. And for the first time, Jisung on the stage looks as tiny as he is in real life.

“Oh my god, he forgot the lyrics,” Chan whispers under his breath.

And Changbin’s heart drops somewhere to his feet as he watches Jisung darting off the stage.

*

“Why do you even need Jisung’s classes schedule?” Hyunjin asks, crossing arms on his chest.

They are standing in the middle of the hall of campus building, and the voices of students rushing to the next period echoes through the thin walls.

“I just want to talk to him,” Changbin shrugs, catching Hyunjin’s questioning glance. “And he doesn’t reply to any of my messages.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin sighs, after a pause. “He has a class in building B now, auditorium 104, it’s on the left.”

Changbin types in the information in his phone swiftly, simultaneously planning out the route in his head. “Thank you,” Hyunjin suddenly says, and Changbin’s head snaps up in confusion.

“For what?”

“He won’t listen to me,” Hyunjin explains, playing with the rings on his fingers as he is avoiding Changbin’s gaze. “But he will, for sure, listen to you.”

“Why?” Changbin rasps past the thick lump in his throat.

“Because your opinion is important to him.”

Changbin feels a familiar twist in his guts, and the subtlety of everyone’s words makes him want to scream.

“Can you all stop with your cryptic language,” Changbin mutters in annoyance and leaves, his steps harsh and swift.

He gets to the place in minutes, almost bumping into several people on his way. As Changbin comes to the auditorium, he leans against the nearest wall, eyes scanning the premises in search of familiar small figure.

Changbin recognizes him right away. Jisung goes past him, his body almost drowning in big yellow hoodie he’s wearing. The hood is placed over his head, but Changbin identifies Jisung’s usual walk, as he stomps forward in his black heavy boots.

“Jisung!” Changbin yells, trying to get his attention. When it doesn’t work, he starts chasing him, now getting closer to the boy. “Han Jisung!” He grasps Jisung’s shoulder, and the latter finally faces him.

At first, his face expresses a rather adorable puzzlement, and his cheeks get puffed as he lets out a breath. But then, as the boy skims quickly through Changbin’s face, he scowls, snatching his arm away from Changbin’s grip. “Fuck off,” he hisses, and starts moving forward faster.

“Wait!” Changbin exclaims, trying to catch the boy’s arm again. “I said wait!” He grips him by the arm again and pulls the boy into the bathroom, that is located at the corner. It is empty, as the class has already started, and now they are alone, staring into each other faces.

Jisung leans in on the sink behind him, crossing the arms on his chest. “What the fuck do you want?” He asks, voice full of annoyance.

Changbin freezes in his place, feeling incredibly stupid for even thinking that it was a good idea. “Look, Jisung, about the performance—”

“Say it,” Jisung snaps, snorting loudly under his breath. “Say that I’m a failure, that I’m untalented, stupid--,”

“What?” Changbin’s voice gets louder, and for some reason, he feels as anger starts pumping through his veins. “You really think that I came all the way here, found out your schedule, tried to contact you this whole time only to say _that_?” He lets out a bitter chuckle, coming a bit closer.

Jisung just shrugs at that, looking down as he scrapes with his feet along the floor. He looks soft, almost vulnerable, and the sight makes Changbin’s heart clench with a strange feeling of guilt and sorrow.

He takes a deep breath, trying to collect the scattered thoughts in his head. In theory, he walked through his speech several times in the morning, and had it prepared, but now his brain feels like a soft mush of confusion. “Did I tell you about my first performance?”

“Huh?” Jisung perks up, his look now being rather intrigued.

“My first performance,” Changbin lets out a sad smile, going back to the memory. “I was seventeen, quite young but still sure that I’m better than everyone else,” he huffs, biting down on his bottom lip. “I came into my first underground club, in my city, got on the stage and then,” Changbin looks straightly in Jisung’s eyes, “forgot everything, my head went completely blank. And then I cried. For days.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jisung says quietly, and there is no anger left. Just pure interest and…. gratefulness.

“Because one unfortunate event doesn’t make you a bad rapper, Jisung,” Changbin explains. “Honestly, you are--,” He stumbles over the words, cursing under his breath. It’s easy to acknowledge that to Chan, but saying this out loud, in front of Jisung, feels rather itchy.

“I am _what_?” A teasing smile appears on the boy’s face, as he waits for Changbin to continue. Though, instead of the usual cockiness and arrogance there is nothing but kindness in his voice, and his cheeks are coloured in an adorable shade of pink.

“You’reagreatrapper,” Changbin mumbles, praying for his own cheeks to stay pale.

“What, what did you say?” Jisung jokingly leans in, now grinning widely. “I didn’t catch that.”

_That little fucker._

“You’re a great rapper, okay?” Changbin growls out, feeling as his cheeks do get hotter, probably flushing with light pink. “Not like you don’t know that anyways,” he adds quietly.

“Should have probably recorded that,” Jisung scoffs. “ _The_ Seo Changbin called me great, what an honor,” he clutches onto his chest in dramatic manner, blinking rapidly as if he got tears in his eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” Changbin groans, yet can’t help but smile. “So, truce?” He asks, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

Jisung gets silent for a moment, his attentive gaze fixated on Changbin’s face. He looks almost as if he’s up to something, with the way his eyebrows are arched and small smile is playing on his lips. There is something almost endearing about it, as he still looks rather small, yet the fierceness and slyness is back, now visible in his gaze. “There was never a war, Changbin.”

*

Initially, Changbin would say that idea of befrending Jisung is rather absurd.

He always thought that there are way too many differences in them – starting from character and the way they behave in social circles, and finishing with the way they deliver themselves on stage. Changbin was used to perceive both of them as polar opposites, that’s why the moment he starts getting closer to Jisung he doesn’t think that something decent will come out of it.

But the world seemed to have other plans.

“You look nervous,” Jisung approaches him, and it’s the first time he sees him since their bathroom talk. Changbin tenses up unintentionally, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. “Hey, you okay?”

“None of your business,” Changbin snaps, more as a habit, but then the hurt look on Jisung’s face remind him that they, indeed, made up. “God, I’m so sorry, I just,” Changbin hides his heated face in his hands, wiping up the sweat. “It’s stupid, but I can’t find Chan.”

“Chan?” Jisung echoes, blinking in confusion. “Aren’t you performing alone?”

Changbin pauses, gulping loudly. “Yeah, I do,” he mutters under his breath, so quiet that he wonders if Jisung caught that. “It’s just—hard to explain.”

“Is he some kind of mascot, or what?” There are traces of teasing in Jisung’s voice, but his tone is rather soft and soothing.

“Yeah,” Changbin huffs in agreement. “I just-,” he stumbles, biting down on his lower lip, almost embarrassed. “It’s hard for me to perform when there is no one I know. I kind of need a sole presence, nothing more.”

He expects Jisung to mock him, or laugh, but when their eyes meet the boy just nods understandingly, with a small smile. “I get that,” he says. “We all have our moments, right?”

“You don’t,” Changbin deadpans. “You always look like you own the place.”

Jisung laughs, throwing his head back a little, and the sound resonates with warmth somewhere in Changbin’s chest. “Practice,” he shrugs. “I kind of learned how to make people believe you’re confident. Just like you,” Jisung titles his head to the side, resting it on his palm, smiling widely.

At that moment, Changbin think that maybe, just maybe, after all, Chan was right, and him and Jisung share more than it seems. As every other person, they hide behind their immaculately chosen images, so fixated in them by now that it’s hard to separate one from another.

Seo Changbin and Han Jisung are not polar opposites, but rather two different sides of a coin, having way too many places where their edges seam.

And the mere thought of that is rather scary.

“I can be your mascot, if you want,” Jisung says playfully, almost slyly. “But something tells me, Changbin, that you’re good on your own as well,” he adds in a bit lower voice, and Changbin can swear his eyes gets sadder, much gloomier. “I believe in you, you know?”

The nights when Changbin performed were usually rather peaceful, only intruded by occasional bickers with Jisung that stopped bothering him much after he got used to it. He can’t say that he stopped being nervous – his body still trembles every time he gets mic into his hands – but Changbin obtained the art of ‘fake it till you make it’ rather well. The tingling that he has now is closer to excitement and anticipation, only slightly covered by nervousness and fear. Changbin knows he’s good, and with every passing performance he starts to believe in this more and more.

People around him clap, patiently waiting until Changbin takes the mic in his hands. He scans the crowd to find Chan’s eyes – the latter’s presence usually having an oddly calming effect on him – but he seems to be out of sight today, making Changbin’s heart, sink a bit. He takes a deep breath, revising the familiar verses in head over and over, with eyes shut close.

When he opens them again, Jisung’s curious eyes stare at him almost from the first row. Changbin notices him right away. His hair is chestnut brown, of a very warm tone, as he looks almost like a fairy with his sparkling eyes and tender features, standing out even from afar. Jisung looks too soft and fragile for this place, yet his outfit is daring and bold: black jean jacket over what looks like a tank-top, black ripped jeans, and traces of glitter seen in his neatly styled hair. It’s so Jisung that Changbin’s heart makes a sharp twist, as he feels getting more nervous, than ever.

_Where the fuck is Chan?_

The crowd starts yelping louder, and Changbin lets out a weak smile, hiding his eyes behind his black cap-peak. The mic in his hands feel much heavier than usual, for some reason. Changbin eyes travel through the room for a moment and for a glimpse of second they catch Jisung’s gaze. He gives him a reassuring smile, so sincere that Changbin’s doesn’t need to see it up close, and suddenly the weight on his shoulders feels lighter.

Changbin feels coated in sunlight as the music starts finally playing from the speakers.

*

“How’s Jisung?”

Changbin nearly chokes on the drink in his hands, and Chan laughs, patting him soothingly on his back. “Why the hell are you asking me?” Changbin wheezes out, clenching onto his chest.

“People see you together a lot, lately.”

“It’s not--,” Changbin sighs, desperately looking for the right words. “It’s not a lot.”

Except that it is, in fact, _a lot._

Changbin knew that they share a couple of classes together, and it shouldn’t have a big deal, as they never interacted outside of ‘Scene Stealers’ as a rule, but, for some reason, Jisung decides to stick to him even more.

“Hey, friend!” Jisung calls him out during one of their shared classes, as he stumbles in a lecture hall. He hops through the steps to the top, where Changbin is sitting, and plops in a very close proximity, unpacking the dozens of notebooks and pens stuffed in his bag.

“Friend?” Changbin huffs, feeling as something warm tingling in his chest. “We had a _one,_ ” Changbin sticks out his index finger, pointing to the ceiling, “conversation when we weren’t at each other’s throats.”

“Bro, it’s enemies to lovers,” Jisung cups his chin in his hands, observing the people sitting at the front. “But before lovers it should be friends, because, what the sense then?” He asks in an absolutely innocent voice, like they are talking about the weather, or homework, at that point. “I’m not skipping steps here.”

Changbin honestly can’t pinpoint if the boy is joking, or not. “That makes zero sense,” he chuckles, darting his gaze away. Jisung always wears this stupidly adorable hoodies that are twice his size, and Changbin can’t help but melt at the contrast between this and all the leather he wears to the club every night. “If you keep clinging to me that won’t automatically make us friends.”

“Why?” Jisung pouts. _Pouts._ “It’s my way of getting close to people.”

Changbin clears his throat, hopping his face remains as stoic, as before. “Well, it won’t work with me.”

Next thing he knows Jisung dozes of on his shoulder while professor is monotonously mumbling nonsense on the background.

And it’s not a one-off event. Yet, Changbin can’t say that he doesn’t like it.

Which is even scarier.

“Then, why you’re blushing?” Chan’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“Huh?”

“You’re blushing,” Chan huffs a laugh. “I think it’s the first time I saw you blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” Changbin grits through his teeth, grasping on the bar counter until his knuckles are white. “It’s just stuffy in here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chan nods, with the utter mockery on his face.

“I will punch you in the throat,” Changbin mumbles, but lets out a small smile.

Chan laughs loudly, throwing his head back, as his whole body is shaking. “Now you’re picking fights with me?” He asks through the laughter, eyes turning into two crescents and dimples showing out.

Changbin follows along, hitting Chan on the arm gently. He grins widely now, cheeks hurting from how hard he is smiling.

“Hey friends,” someone half hugs him from the back, and Changbin freezes, as he recognizes Jisung’s voice. Chan stops laughing as well, eyebrows arched in a silent question.

 _‘Shut up’,_ Changbin mouths. “Is this your new thing?” He says aloud instead, trying to keep his breathing even. Jisung’s arms around his shoulders feel heavy, and Changbin’s skin tingles at the touch.

“What is?” Jisung replies, now swaying from side to side, pulling Changbin along with him, his breathing tickling along the back of his neck.

“Calling everyone friends?” Changbin retorts, hoping his voice doesn’t crack. He decides to concentrate on his palms, trying to find new patterns there.

“Maybe,” Changbin feels as Jisung shrugs. “Oh, by the way, hyung,” he now sits between Chan and Changbin, and the latter can’t help but kind of miss the weight of his arms on his shoulders. “Do you want to perform together?”

Changbin makes eye contact with Chan, as if silently asking for help. “Like a battle between you both?” Chan asks, tapping with a finger on his chin.

 _‘Not helping’_ , Changbin mouths.

“Yeah!” Jisung beams, almost jumping into his place. “Would be nice to solidify everything, right, Changbin?”

“What a great idea!” Chan exclaims excitedly.

“I think I will pass,” Changbin says right after.

Jisung’s eyes open up, and a smile falls from his lips. “Oh, why?” He shifts closer, and Changbin feels like his chest is breaking. “Are you scared, hyung?” He whispers, almost in his ear, breath hot and tickly, sending shivers up and down his body.

The pink on Jisung’s cheek doesn’t slip through a crack.

“I’m not scared,” Changbin tries to snap, but it turns out more like a meowl. He meets Jisung’s gaze, and now he is way too close, and it feels almost intimate. “Fine, fine! Let’s do this!” He shoves the boy away, clearing his throat while trying to come back to senses. “Whatever you want.”

“Nice!” Jisung claps with his hands, hopping of the stool and tugging Changbin towards the stage.

_Well, fuck._

Changbin doesn’t know what is louder – the crowd, the music on the background, or the sound of his heart almost breaking out of his chest. Faces fade into one big blur, and it almost feels like his head is full of water, making him dizzy.

_Concentrate, Changbin._

Jisung in front of him looks rather calm – a usual teasing smile plays on his lips and his eyes lit up with mischievousness, as his eyes wander around the stages. The crows hypes them – him – up, yelling out random words out of context.

And then Jisung’s eyes lend on Changbin. And he fucking smirks, biting down on his bottom lip.

Changbin wants the world to just swallow him all at once.

Jisung starts slow, almost painfully slow, stretching out the sentences and words in an alluring manner, which is not quite usual for his style, as him and Changbin are both rather intense. Jisung’s eyes never leave Changbin, even for a second, almost like he’s able to see all his worries through.

_When my cut ends, you ask what movie I star in, but I'm only an extra, when I appear my presence has a size that can't be seen._

He makes his voice deeper this time, and the crowd cheers, filling the background. Jisung, indeed, _owns_ the stage, and Changbin has no intentions to take the spotlight from him.

Yet.

_Taking away the leading role's screen time, even when I'm only a supporting actor, are you still at that level?_

Jisung comes closer, and Changbin physically feels how the air between their bodies gets electrocuted. The voices of people get lost in _Jisung_ – his smile, eyes, posture, words. Smirk still plays on his lips, and Changbin chuckles under his breath, ready to take the bait.

 _I'm not greedy for screentime, I don't need much,_ usually Changbin is rather harsh, fierce, but this time he tries to fill the voice with playfulness and coyness, sly smile sliding across his face. _It doesn't matter how much I do, it's the result, that's right._ He comes even closer to Jisung, and they are not even at distance of half-stretched arm. The crowd howls even more. _So, the kids are right, the famous line is right._

People don’t hear that, but Jisung _laughs_. The mic is tucked under his side, so the sound is not audible to everyone, but Changbin _hears._ They both are pumped up on adrenaline, cheeks flushed and breathes hitched, bodies almost trembling.

And then Jisung comes even closer to him, only few inches being left between them. His mic is still tucked under his side as he leans in. “Oh, you want to kiss me so bad,” he whispers right in his lips, as they slightly brush against his own ones, and before Changbin can even react, jolts away, bringing mic back to his mouth.

_Even if I only appear in one scene, my existence itself is a scene stealer._

And, well, Changbin thinks he is defeated.

*

“That was fun,” Jisung says, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Soft Jisung is back – with cheeks puffed out adorably, and eyes full of stars and admiration.

They are outside of the club, sitting on the cold cement steps of the backyard, still pumped up and sweaty from the performance. Jisung seems small and tiny again, nuzzling into his big woolen scarf, and Changbin almost coos at how endearing is that.

“Yeah,” Changbin agrees, feeling the cold night wind biting on his skin. “Should we repeat sometime?”

“What, performance, or the kiss?” Jisung asks cheekily.

Changbin feels like someone hits him on the head, completely dumbfound. “Huh?” He repeats, eyes bugging out. “How the hell it was a kiss?”

“I felt you lips on mine!” Jisung whines, pouting cutely, and Changbin’s chest _hurts_. “It’s a kiss.”

“Han Jisung--”

“Oh, god, Changbin,” he groans, taking off his scarf and placing it to the ground. “Just kiss me again already.”

“It’s not ag--,” he gets cut off by the plush lips brushing against his own ones.

This time Changbin doesn’t feel the breaking tension, and his heart is not pumping in his ears, but the sensation is ethereal, as waves of warmth come through his body. Jisung’s lips are chapped, but sweet, probably for the cherry chapstick Changbin saw earlier in his hands, and he lets himself melt into the touch, as the boy’s tongue goes around the seam of Changbin’s lips gently. It’s soft, almost tender, making him want to imprint the memory in his head, as it brings him an unusual feeling of peace.

Unusual.

When they break away, Jisung smiles, pink colouring his cheeks, accompanying the colour of his lips in a nice way. “I can’t believe you were so dense,” he says under his breath, with glimpses of laughter.

“And he is back to insulting me,” Changbin huffs, taking Jisung’s smaller hand and threading their fingers. His hands are soft, nice, and Changbin thinks he can get used to the feeling of them on his skin.

“I’m stating the facts,” Jisung rolls his eyes. “Everyone and their mother could tell I like you.”

“You like me?” Changbin asks with a faux surprise, clutching on his chest.

Jisung throws him a threatening glance, arching an eyebrow. “If you don’t shup up, I will kiss you again.”

Changbin leans in, closing the distance one more time.

“It’s not like I’m opposed to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> i was having lots of fun while writing this so hope you enjoyed :3  
> special thanks to varya for basically making this fic happen and helping me out with getting the atmosphere on point <3 support changbin on smtm and stream streetlight and cypher for clear skin and good grades 
> 
> [credits](https://genius.com/Genius-english-translations-3racha-scene-stealers-english-translation-lyrics) for english translation of scene stealers 
> 
>   
>  [twt](https://twitter.com/_softouches)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/softouchan)  
> [buy me coffee <3](buymeacoffee.com/softouches)


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